


Love, paint, pain and trouble

by EmmaSpencer



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BIG ONES, Boys In Love, But Greg is there, Caring Greg Lestrade, Emotions so much of them, Greg is a French artist, Greg to the rescue, Happy Ending, I'm terrible in tagging, Irene Adler mentioned - Freeform, M/M, Mycroft has secrets, Mycroft in trouble, Mycroft is an agent, Mycroft is lost a bit, Paris - Freeform, Post WW2, Sherlock mentioned, Stay for good, The Holmes parents are not the best, Threat of jail time, Threats of Violence, Uncle Rudy is not impressed, Unfortunate first meeting, Young Mycroft Holmes/Young Greg Lestrade, meeting when possible, my muse - Freeform, paintings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18758848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaSpencer/pseuds/EmmaSpencer
Summary: The second World War ended, life is getting back to normal in Paris, but not for Greg the young thief. One fatefull night he had tried to relieve a ginger English man of his wallet, but what followed was something none of them anticipated.Mycroft's work regularly makes him visit Paris, not that he minds, because Gregory Lestrade the handsom and talented painter, formerly thief, is waiting for him there. Giving him all the comfort and love he is so deprived of.Greg had wished for more than just a few days of happiness with his lover, but not the way his wish came true.I'm going to be eternally grateful for bookjunkiecat's notes and suggestions!





	Love, paint, pain and trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookjunkiecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/gifts).



  
  


“Hey.” Greg waved to get his attention. “Mycroft.” the young man smiled and hurried to him between the passengers. “Couldn’t keep myself away.” he smiled his devilish smile.

“Am I complaining?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, smiling back at him. 

“Let me help,” he took one of his bags, feeling a warm sensation run up his arm when their hands touched. It had been months since they’d seen each other, they exchanged letter but that was nothing like actually seeing, hearing, feeling him.

“Thank you.” 

“You are here, finally.” he whispered like an excited child.

“Sorry for the long hiatus.”

“Not your fault.” he couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m just glad you are here again. Where did you get a room this time?”

“Usual place.”

“Dear me. Your firm really should appreciate you more. I can’t let you stay in a filthy hole. No, no.”

“I was hoping so.” 

“I missed you.” he kissed him once they were in the car.

“Me too, sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“Stay for good,” he looked at Mycroft pleadingly.

“It’s not that easy Gregory,” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“So you keep saying,” he turned his attention to the road. 

“Sorry,” Mycroft ran his hand through Greg’s silver locks.

“How long will you stay this time?” Greg leant into his touch.

“Two-three--”

“Days! That’s nothing. Last time it was a week and--”

“Two or three  _ weeks, _ ” he kissed Greg behind the ear. “Three and a half if we are lucky.”

“Splendid!” he smiled, “Four weeks?”

“Don’t be insatiable, my darling.”

“I just miss you so much. It’s so different without you.”

“You got on well before me,” he chuckled.

“Somewhat all right…yes. Until we met and you broke my arm.”

“I made up for it I believe.”

“You did.”

“Anyways…it wasn’t me who had his hand where it shouldn’t be.”

“Yes, yes; but that is behind me…thanks to you. I won’t forget it.”

“Gregory, my gorgeous, talented, man…you did all the work. I just dropped a few words here and there.”

“Yeah…walking around with my paintings, calling in favours, hunting people down in cafés, on the streets. I know what you did.”

“You deserve it…and more,” he whispered.  “You don’t have to stay with me, thinking you owe me this.”

“No…no, you are sitting on the reason of my interest.” Greg shot him a smile; Mycroft chuckled keeping his hand on Greg’s thigh during the ride.

  
  


******

 

Mycroft had been in Paris a bit more than a year before when Greg tried to relieve him of his wallet. The encounter had ended in a broken arm for Greg, and Mycroft nursing his thief back to health. 

“What do you want?” Greg grunted resting his head against the building, the pain was too much for him to flee. So he just sat in the snow, trying to collect his strength. Mycroft peaked back from the corner, after the initial excitement passed, he remembered the agonizing cry, so he returned to investigate. Now he examined his thief from a safe distance; he was a young man, dark eyes and hair, soft features, really handsome Mycroft concluded. From the way he was dressed, the hanging, torn clothes, Mycroft could tell that life wasn’t kind to him. He spotted paint spots on his clothes too, so a broke artist. “Breaking my arm wasn’t enough?” he turned his head towards him. Even from the distance Mycroft could see his pain and the fear in his eyes, which he tried to mask.

“I…I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to…cause you pain.” Mycroft slowly approached him, still gripping his umbrella tightly. “Can I be of your assistance?”

“Just leave me be.” he grunted cradling his throbbing arm.

“Can I take you home? Call a cab for you?”

“Home…” he started coughing.

“You cough terribly.” he helped him up. 

“Please just don’t call the police.” he whispered breathlessly.

“I won’t.”

“I don’t have anything in return…nothing; you can check.”

“I don’t need anything from you…just…can’t leave you out here to freeze to death.” Mycroft slid his arm around him, helping him stay on his feet.

“Can you manage a little walk? My hotel isn’t far.”

“Hotel…posh English boy.” he chuckled.

“You’ll change your mind seeing it.” Mycroft sighed.

“If it’s dry, I’ll accept it. Do you have something to eat?”

“I’ll figure something.” 

“Thank you.” he whispered his head resting on Mycroft’s shoulder. From close up he looked exceptional, despite his age there were silver strands in his dark hair, Mycroft could feel how malnourished he was under the coat; he smelled intoxicating, Mycroft had to hold himself back not to bury his nose to his hair. “I’m Greg by the way.”

“Mycroft.”

“You know that anyone else would just leave me or call the police.”

“I just…” Mycroft mumbled blushing. “We are here.” he sighed relieved.

“You weren’t kidding…this place is…” Greg chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining!” he added quickly.

 

Greg was finally in bed, Mycroft curled up in the armchair not being able to take his eyes off him. Mycroft blushed even admitting to himself the real reason behind his charity. Yes, he felt guilty for breaking Greg’s arm but the young thief awakened feelings he hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

 

******

 

“I can’t believe that I managed to take in an ungrateful thief!” Mycroft yelled fed up with Greg’s tantrum.

“No one told you to do so!”  he mumbled between coughs.

“Yeah, so I should just leave you on the streets to die?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he ran his fingers through his mussed hair. “Why?”

“I have nothing; not a place, no job, no family…war took everything,” he whispered, shoulders dropping, looking genuinely miserable. “Dad left to fight in the war and pretty soon got killed. We were doing all right, me and mum I mean, but then came the German occupation and it just went downhill for us. We got put out of our house…the Lestrade family is old and had money. Which meant a well situated pretty house…you can see why we got put out. We hoped to stay with relatives, but no one wanted to take us in, no one needed two more mouths to feed. We somehow were able to keep up a room…I scavenged and started to steal to help out. One day mother just disappeared; haven’t seen her since. I’ve been…doing everything to survive on my own since that day, anything…” he looked at Mycroft finally. “So if you had enough you can just put me out with a clean conscience. No need to play the saviour.”

“I’m not playing…” he sat on the bed, Greg eyed him curiously. 

“Why break my arm?”

“I wasn’t planning on...” he mumbled. “It was an accident, I’m really sorry.”

“Accident? You hit me like you were ready to chop my arm off.” 

“I had documents that I had to keep safe…losing them would cost more than my job.”

“You work a lot.” Greg had time to learn Mycroft’s daily routine by now.

“Which is expected of me.” Greg finally took the bottle with the cough syrup from him.

“I’d never do that…”

“What is expected of you? Yes, I know about  _ that _ already.” 

Greg chuckled, “No one will treat me like a slave.”

“I’m not a slave.”

“You are,” Greg curled up. “A really handsome one,” he mumbled. Mycroft blushed. “And now even more so,” Greg chuckled, before a coughing fit took over him.

“Stop with the lies, Lestrade.”

“What lies…have I ever lied to you?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Exactly,” he smiled at him and Mycroft knew that he was lost.

 

******

  
  
  


“Love, we are here,” Greg stroked his hair.

“Sorry, my mind wandered.”

“Work?”

“If you mean nursing a thief in my room…then yes,” he kissed him on the cheek before getting out of the car.

“Monsieur Holmes,” the house lady had snuck up on them.

“Madam,” he bowed.

“Work again?”

“Indeed.”

“Always work.”

“Yes.” he tried to step past her, without success.

“Will you be attending the exhibition? Our darling is rather popular now days.”

“Is he now?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“And not only his paintings. All the ladies are trying to trap him in their webs, but he’s married to his work.”

“Yes…to my work,” Greg nodded. “If you’ll excuse us, Mycroft had a long trip, he wants to rest...”

“Sure…rest,” her chuckle followed them up the stairs.

“Ladies?” Mycroft whispered.

“As she said, I’m married to work…a working man,” Greg pushed Mycroft against the wall, kissing him passionately. 

“If you don’t open that door Lestrade…god help me…” Mycroft was already undoing Greg’s shirt; Greg chuckled, patting around for his the key.

  
  


*********

  
  


Mycroft sighed contently, curled up in Greg’s embrace. The studio where Greg chose to live smelled like paint but nothing could overpower Greg’s scent. Mycroft ran his nose over Greg’s chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Greg stroked his hair,

“I miss you dearly,” he whispered.

“Me too,” Mycroft kissed him. “But before you ask again, I can’t move…not now.”

“Meaning?”

“I…I’m not sure,” he evaded, drawing patterns on Greg’s chest with his fingers.

“About what? You are overworked, always exhausted, sent from here to there…whenever they say so. Barely valued…not even enough to get a proper room. I can go on.”

“I know Gregory,” he sighed deeply.

“You hate the commute.”

“That too. Closed up with all those people…” Mycroft shuddered and Greg chuckled.

“And there is something else…the views of your government. One bad step and you are locked away.” Mycroft just huffed in response. “So?”

“I’m not like you my darling, not a free spirit. Change is…hard, it needs to be well planned…”

“Examined from every angle and have several back up plans, yes. I know you well, My,” he buried his nose in Mycroft’s hair. “I know you well.”

“Then why keep asking?” he looked up at him.

“One can always hope.” 

Mycroft kissed him and got up wrapped in the sheet, “You’ve been really productive,” he walked around the studio.

“I have the time…and as she said, my paintings are sought like candy.”

“Who is your model?”

“You, silly.” Greg wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Mycroft’s shoulder, “See, the freckles on your back…thighs. Your perfectly shaped body…this was inspired by your eyes…the changing colours; like the sky. Your hair…smile…You are in all of them…each and every one of them.”

“Me?” he whispered.

“You, always you,” he kissed Mycroft tenderly behind his ear.

“When is it? The showing?”

“Friday evening, at the little gallery.”

“Want me to be there? Maybe showing up with someone wouldn’t be good for your image…Destroying their idea of you…they’d know that you are taken and lose interest in you.”

“I don’t care what they think, or if less women will buy my stuff because of it. I’d really like you to be there…but I also know that you are worked like a slave.”

“Some of us don’t have the talent to be leisure artists…spending nights in cafés, mingling with ladies and lads...driving off to the lakes and painting a little here and there.”

“Ahh...” he turned Mycroft to look him in the eyes. “Someone is jealous,” he chuckled.

“No, I just see the reality. I’m far away, barely here, there are more handsome men you can get…it’s not a…I shouldn’t keep you for myself.”

“None of them is more handsome than you, My. And as for the distance…I don’t mind, as long as you keep coming back to me. I don’t need any lady or man…just my red English fox.” Mycroft blushed burying his face to the crook of his neck. “I’m happy like this…more than happy,” he kissed Mycroft, “So you’ll come?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Good! I’m famished, how about we make something to eat?”

  
  
  


******

  
  


Mycroft stood by the door, watching Greg smile and chat with the patrons.

“Hello there.”

“Hmmm?” Mycroft looked at the young man who had approached him.

“You’re English.”

“I know.”

“A fine English gentleman…” he licked his upper lip, eyeing him suggestively.

“Would you please excuse me,” Mycroft stepped away from him and walked up Greg.

“Hey, you made it,” Greg slid an arm around his waist.

“Yes, sorry for being late.”

“You’re here, it’s all that matters.” 

“How’s it going?”

“Well, very well. Come, I must show off the most gorgeous piece of art in Paris,” His pointed look made Mycroft blush. “That is what I love to see,” Greg murmured.

“I would want rather less eyes on me…I think someone is following me.” Mycroft whispered.

“Who?”

“You said it was a  _ small _ gallery,” Mycroft’s eyes grew wide when stepping into the next room. “Only yours?”

“Yes…for one night it is all about us.”

“Us?”

“Me and your…”

“Gregory!” he covered Greg’s mouth, his ears burning. “That is…

“Yes?” he cooed.

“What have you done?” he whispered.

“Painted, your magnificent…parts.”

“That is…This is scandalous.” Mycroft was lost for words; Greg just smiled cheekily.

“Why? They like it…scandalous, but not obnoxious. What the folks like, hang it above the bed or even in the corridors…and explain it other ways. They look at it and it is your...” he slid his hand down Mycroft’s chest. “Or anything they say about it. A lady said it was a tower, in her opinion…she already bought it. This is the beauty of it.” Greg chuckled, Mycroft couldn’t say a word after that.

  
  
  


******

  
  


“You were worried about something earlier,” Greg put his arm around Mycroft as they walked up the stairs. 

“Yes, the young man I mentioned.”

“He was just admiring you, I should be jealous.” 

“I fear it is more than that.”

“You are being paranoid, honey.”

“And you’ve drunk too much.”

“They bought everything, My, everything! You know what that means?”

“What?”

“I have to show you something,” Greg gripped his hand, running up the remaining stairs. Mycroft took the key from him and opened the door. “Come on,” Greg reached for his arm again, pulling him in impatiently, “I kept everything you sent me.”

“Letters?” he stared at the neatly stacked pile.

“Those too, and the money. I wanted to give all of it back, if you agree; these…” he handed him the envelopes. “And what I collected will be enough to buy that little cottage on the coast…the one we stayed in. Warm weather, seaside, painting, lounging, loving you.” 

“My work keeps me in Paris, we wouldn’t be able to meet,” he whispered handing everything back to Greg. “Please tell me you weren’t continuing with your criminal deeds instead of using the money.”

“I did not…I cleaned, and painted the set in a theatre.”

“You used the room I got you?”

“That I did…and painted.” Mycroft smiled stroking Greg’s flushed face. “I want to settle with you, live with you…keep you safe, make you happy.” 

Mycroft smiled sadly, “I am happy.”

“For a few days or so.”

“It is more than I had before,” he kissed him.

“I want it to last…want it to be every day for you.” Mycroft sighed in response. “I know; you can’t. But why?” he cupped Mycroft’s face.

“You better sit down, Gregory, and I’ll tell you everything…everything I should have told you before. I’ll just look around to be sure…” He looked out of the window.

“Sooooo cautious.” Greg was laying on his stomach, dangling his legs.

“I have to be, my job warrants it.”

“What do you do?” Mycroft had never said, and Greg was clearly curious.

“I’m an agent of His Majesty’s secret service.” 

Greg’s jaw dropped. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Like…running around with guns and all?” Greg sat up.

“No, the kind who does research and interrogations, translations. But still…if that man is one of us…that could only mean internal investigation…”

“More reason to stay with me. We can get away…no one will know,” Greg gripped his hand.

“If only it would be so easy.” Mycroft stroked his hands.

“Why wouldn’t it? They will throw you in jail without batting an eye.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I’m...married,” he confessed, defeated. “I was young…I…we got discovered. We planned on running off together but…he left the country, without me. He left me behind, so I did what I had to and got married.” Mycroft sighed, clearly strained, staring at their joined hands. Greg sat closer to him. “My mother chose her; good family, a title, but most importantly, far from home, not hearing of my misstep…or so my mother thought.”

“What’s she like?”

“She is a…” Mycroft chuckled humourlessly. “Everyone falls at her feet, men do anything she wants.”

“Not you.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.” Mycroft snorted. “I let her do whatever--and  _ whomever _ \--she wants. But she hates me because I’m not under her spell. Also, she prefers my brother, but he doesn’t care for her--so she resents us both.”

Greg pulled him to a hug. “What’s her name?”

“Irene. I didn’t want to tell you, fearing you’d…you’d leave me.” Mycroft was trembling in his arms.

“No, honey.” Greg rocked him, covering him in kisses. “No…no…never. You’re in a bigger pickle than I’ve ever been.” Mycroft snorted, curling up in his arms, tightly holding onto Greg. “Stay with me, love…please let me help you this time.”

“I can’t.”

“So you keep repeating.” 

“It’s...too engraved in my mind, ‘obey to every order.’ Obey, and ignore my needs and wishes.”

“I’m here to remind you that you matter; to me, you matter more than anything.”

“No.” Mycroft shook his head, getting out of Greg’s arms. “No, Gregory…you deserve better.”

“Where are you going?” he asked with confusion.

“Away, so you can be free of me.”

“And go home to  _ her _ ?”

“It’s what I deserve.”

“No. I’m not letting you do so!” Greg grabbed his hand. 

“You have no say in it. I  _ have _ to get back…I just--”

“Love…” Greg was imploring, disbelieving.

“Forget me,” Mycroft pressed one last passionate kiss on Greg's lips before exiting silently and swiftly through the bathroom window.

  
  


******

  
  
  


“You really thought you could get away from me?” It had taken Greg a few days, but he’d managed to track Mycroft down.

“I said to forget me.” He looked at Greg coldly.

“And when have words ever stopped me?” Greg tilted his head, studying Mycroft’s stressed face, “You’ve had time to think.”

“I had a run in with that man again.”

“Tell me what he said.” 

Mycroft looked around and pulled Greg into a small crowded café, “Gregory, please, just this once do as I tell you.”

“Tell me what he said!” Relenting, he guided him to sit down. Mycroft was far too  pale, his eyes frantically scanning the café. Greg never seen him like this and it had him worried, really worried. Mycroft turned away from him. “Mycroft? Love?”

“He said to do as he says.”

“And what did he say he wanted you to do? What does he want? What’s going on?” Greg was panicking now.

“He wants papers, data…confidential information.”

“If you don’t help him?”

“You and Sherlock…” he stopped abruptly, turning in his seat.

“Someone broke a cup My.” Greg gently took his hand. “Nothing else.” 

“Yes.” he turned back slowly.

“What will happen to us if you don’t cooperate?”

“Oh…get hurt, badly and I’ll be arrested as a traitor.”   

“Your brother, I can understand. He is way too famous to be ignored. But how does he know about me?”

“He was in the Gallery, remember? I told you I saw him there.”

“Yeah, yes…and what did you do when he told you what he wanted?”

“I’m buying time to make up false but believable reports. He’s working for the Russians apparently…”

“How does he know that you...?”

“He is working for the agency too.” Mycroft was grim, “A double agent.”

“Okay…Why not report him?” Greg suggested rashly, “Kill him?”

“I never…I could never kill someone,” Mycroft whispered.

“Want me to?”

“NO! Don’t you dare!”

“Then  _ report _ him, he‘s a spy!”

“He has...associates, they’d hurt you, and Sherlock nevertheless.”

“So you feed him false data till he figures it out and kills you?”

“At least it would be only me, not the people I care for.”

“I thought it couldn’t get any worse,” Greg rubbed his eyes.

“Not only he has me cornered...Irene is ready to destroy my family if I leave her. So running away is out of question too,” Mycroft sighed, a broken sound which Greg hated to hear.

“The family who doesn’t care a bit about you?”

“They saved me.”

“We will have a long conversation about  _ that _ , sometime.”

“My brother, I can’t do this to him. I can’t risk his life…”

“The drug addict brother who doesn’t talk to you? Who closed you in the shed with the bees? Who pushed you into the river? Who robbed you? Who constantly makes fun of you?”

“He’s family.”

“And you are an idiot.”

“I know.”

Greg kissed his hands, “Are you watched at all times?”

“Most of the time.”

“Right now?” Mycroft nodded. “All right, here’s the plan. I know you won’t like it, but I don’t have a better idea. You do what he wants. I know, I know…” he stroked his arm. “But I need till Friday to arrange everything. You lose your tail, sneak away in the middle of the night and meet me, where we first met. I’ll be waiting till the sun comes up.”

“And then? Do what?”

“We leave, together. I bought the house; I used my real name, no one really cared to ask it…you know it and that is all. No one will know.”

“But…”

“Be a traitor and let him do what he wants with you? Same with your so called family? Go back to your wife?” Mycroft buried his face in his hands, despairing. “I’ll be waiting,” Greg kissed his temple. “I have to run now, lots to do. Love you Mycroft, more than you can imagine.” Greg left him with a heavy heart.

 

 

Mycroft tried to forget what Greg said to him; hope was dangerous, there was no hope. Before meeting Greg it would never have crossed his mind, he’d never be able to abandon his family. But now as Mycroft was laying on his bed on the appointed day, Greg’s words came back to him.  _ ‘You have a choice, Mycroft. Things can go back as they were, unhappy, pleasing everyone else; do what they want. Or start doing things for yourself...what would happen then? What? You’ll be happy for once…but on the other hand…’ _ Mycroft sighed rubbing his eyes.  _ ‘When did they ever care for me? They only helped save the family name, it wasn’t for any care of me. Gregory is right. Not talking to me unless I do as they say. Always what they want…so what does Mycroft Holmes want?’  _ He knew the answer; he’d  _ always  _ known,  _ ‘Gregory; to live happily away from trouble, with Gregory.’ _

Mycroft got dressed, his hands shaking, barely managing to do the buttons, but he didn’t care. Only thing mattered: to get to Gregory before the sun came up. He didn’t pack everything, just threw a few things into a bag and ran.

So panicked was he that he would miss Greg, that Mycroft almost ran past him, “Easy there,” Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft, pulling him close.

“Let me go!” Mycroft cried out, struggling.

“Love, it’s me.” 

Mycroft was panicking but he could faintly smell paint, and he realized who held him, “Gregory!” he whispered and stopped struggling.

“Let’s go love…the car is here,” He steered him towards it.

“Yes,” he stared at him blankly. “You have the car.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t come up with a better plan.”

“I’ll be hunted like a traitor.”

“Nope.”

“I will be.” Greg shook his head. “I will…I will be killed and you too! What have I done!” He tried to open the door, but Greg reached over and grabbed his hands.

“I made a delivery earlier today.”

“What of?”

“Did you know that I wasn’t always pick-pocketing?”

“No...”

“Forgery, my true forte. How I started painting,” He chuckled.

“Oh…”

“He sent you a letter, with his demands. Which you turned in…and went into hiding for your own safety.”

“You think they’d believe it?”

“If they value you a bit, they’ll believe your hand written statement, it’s  _ very _  detailed.” Greg’s smile was mischievous.

“Why would I run? That will be suspicious.”

“He threatened to take your life! No other choice.” Mycroft turned to his side, his head resting on the seat. 

“What if he talks about you and me?”

“So what if he does?”

“I cannot go back home.”

“No.”

“I’ll lose my job.”

“Sorry…I just wanted you to be safe.”

They lapsed into silence, Mycroft curled against the seat, Greg’s eyes on the road as he drove them into the countryside. Greg thought Mycroft had fallen asleep, he was quiet for so long. Finally, Mycroft spoke softly, “You went through all of this trouble for me?”

“Anything for you,” Greg reached out and tenderly stroked his face.

“Hands on the wheel, Lestrade,” he whispered. “I want to remain alive.”

“Yes, Sir,” he smiled warmly.

“I decided that it’s time to do things I want,” Mycroft whispered, as if sharing a shameful secret.

“About time,” Greg chuckled, and blew him a kiss. “I love you, madly and forever. You just sleep, I’ll wake you when we make a stop.”

“Thank you.” Exhausted, he pulled Greg’s jacked over himself and slid into sleep.

  
  


*******

  
  


“Love!” Greg yelled.

“Yes?” Mycroft peeked out.

“Visitor,” Greg was eyeing the man standing on the grass with concern over the top of the canvas.

“Oh…Uncle.” Mycroft came out onto to the porch.

“Mycroft, can we talk?”

“Sure.” Greg sent questioning look over the canvas. “Oh, yes. Gregory, this is my uncle, Rudolph Holmes.”

“Monsieur Lestrade.” They shook hands. “I can see you wish to join us.” 

Greg smiled, “Just…worried for Mycroft.”

“No need. I merely wanted to see if he is all right and to tell him that he is an idiot.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft mumbled, staring at his feet.

“You should have contacted me.”

“Why? What could you do from miles away?”

“Mycroft,” He sighed.

“You didn’t even consider helping me when I was facing jail time. I begged you and you just ignored me, all of you! Why would you care now?” Mycroft hissed. “You’re only here because you need something.” Greg stepped to him wrapping his arms around him.

“I can handle it.” Mycroft whispered to Greg.

“I know,” he whispered back. He raised his voice, addressing his next words at Mycroft’s uncle, “I hope you are not planning on taking him away, Mr. Holmes.”

“No. Just trying to understand his reasons.”

“I was watched day and night. When? How should I…”

“You are clever, more than anyone. You could have figured out a way.”

“He said…he would hurt Gregory and Sherlock.”

“Still…” Mycroft’s uncle stepped closer. 

“Did you catch him?”

“Yes, we arrested him.”

“I didn’t give him anything! What he got was…”

“I know, I’ve seen it. You did good, but…”

“No one would believe me.”

“Why?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t know about the countless complaints, and reports they wrote to try and get rid of me.”

“You should have contacted me, nephew mine.” 

“I…I was…”

“Could you give us a few minutes, Lestrade?”

“Sure.” Greg left them in the garden.

“I know what you are going to say, Uncle. Caring isn’t an advantage.”

“I thought it was just a fling.”

“You knew?”

“Of course, Mycroft. And now you see what it has caused. He said he’ll hurt your lover and you dropped everything, reason went out of the window and you only concentrated on saving Greg. Nothing else.”

“I don’t care.” he stared to his uncle’s eyes. “And I’m not going to apologise for it.”

“Mycroft, be reasonable…come with me and everything will be as before. You’ll work with me again, no one will dare to speak or gossip, you’ll stay home and safe.”

“That’s what I do not want.”

“What do you mean? I’m offering you a position I’d only dreamt of at your age.”

“I’m not going back to Irene, I’m not going to be pushed around by mother or by you. Because that‘s what’s waiting for me; continuing my miserable life…under your control. That’s why you want me back,” he scoffed. “You lost your little pawn, the one you worked on for years.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“Of course...I’m not about to do what you want so I’m mental,” he laughed dryly. “If I’m not obeying, I’m faulty, mental, an idiot….a disgrace. Well, I’ve had enough, from now on I do what I want.”

“You’ll beg me to take you back, just watch.”

“No, you’ll beg  _ me _ …because you need me…that is why you are here. I left months ago…you could have checked on me any time.”

“It took time to find you.”

“Sure. Something came up and you can’t deal with it.”

“You are thinking too highly of yourself.”

“But you don’t say that I’m wrong.”

“No.” he sighed. 

“You made me,” he crossed his arms. “I learnt everything for you.”

“Not everything.”

“I did, just as I’ve seen your mistakes and I don’t plan on making them.”

“But just think through what happened!”

“I’m not going to keep repeating myself. It was nice seeing you, uncle. I’m not going back home, you can tell that to mother,” he turned his back.

“And the job?”

“What about it?” he turned back from the porch.

“Will you do it?”

“And then what? Another case and another, and before I know it I’m back in the office, working from sunrise till midnight day after day.”

“How about…you assist, whenever something unsolvable comes up.”

“I’m not travelling.”

“Don’t have to. I get the files here and back.”

“Leave it with me, I’ll see.” 

His uncle handed over the bag, “Your family thinks you’re gone, for good. I won’t say different.”

“Until I help out?” he raised an eyebrow.

“No, don’t worry. I’m not blackmailing you.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Mycroft smirked.

“What have we created?” he sighed, looking Mycroft up and down. “Sorry, nephew mine.”

“What for?”

“Only seeing you as a tool to use to keep our country safe.”

“It’s what you learnt from your father.” Mycroft could afford to be generous now that he was going to be left alone.

“That’s not an excuse.” he patted Mycroft’s shoulder. “Be safe and use your head!”

“See you.” Mycroft watched his uncle depart.

“My?” Greg leant out.

“Hmmm?”

“Dinner is ready…where you want to eat?”

“You weren’t listening in?”

“Nope.” 

Mycroft smiled and kissed him, “Out here will be fine.”

“Do you have to leave?” Greg pointed at the bag with an uneasy expression.

“No, I’m allowed to work from the comfort of our home. If I choose to.”

“If you  _ choose _ to? Am I hearing right?”

“You are,” he smiled and wrapped his arms around Greg’s neck. “If I choose to.” he whispered.

“Not becoming a slave?”

“Not again…I would never give up what we have. Promise.” he kissed him softly.

 

And Mycroft did keep his promise. More and more agencies found him, begging for his help but he never returned to his old ways. Mycroft of course wondered what had became of his family, how they were doing but he couldn’t return so he had to accept whatever information his uncle provided. Apparently they weren’t too touched by his disappearance. He made his peace with it, not easily but gradually he accepted it.

Gregory and their life together came first, everything second. While Mycroft worked, Greg painted…they found their balance, away from trouble; a peaceful island in the chaos.

  
  



End file.
